No Common Allegiance: Death in the Key of G
by dHALL
Summary: Part Two of Three. The backpack turns up, the truth comes out and a confrontation with unexpected visitors lands Don and Charlie in a situation that could cost them both their lives. SERIES COMPLETED
1. I Didn't See That Coming

Well, here is the start of the sequel I promised.

If you haven't read No Common Allegiance: The Red Line Blues, you might want to read that first.

Red Line can stand alone. This one does not.

I hope chapter one grabs your attention….AS always; I revel in your comments.

Thanks again to thebondgirl for being my sounding board.

Life is crazy, so it may take a little longer than usual to update….but I'm gonna try to keep the chapters coming.

Oh yeah...Once again, just to clarify, I don't own Numb3rs or the characters herein.

**No Common Allegiance: Death in the Key of G**

By dHALL

**Chapter One: I didn't see that coming**

The silence in the room was louder than any amount of yelling could have been.

Special Agent Don Eppes stood in the doorway of the office break room and watched the two young men squirm.

"Sorry Sir. We just figured…….."

The other one spoke up.

"We assumed no one was coming back and…….."

Don kept his facial expression neutral as he evaluated the unsatisfactory level of fear on the faces of the two newest members of the Los Angeles FBI office. If they left this room without having to change their pants; he would be terribly disappointed in himself.

Don narrowed his eyes and plastered a grim expression on his face.

"Let me tell you something, newbie."

He kept his voice low and threatening.

"Assumptions are a really good way to lose a limb."

Don addressed the first young man.

"Spell assume for me."

"What?"

"WHAT, SIR!"

The senior agent loomed over the stunned young man and he quickly corrected himself.

"Yes, Sir."

"I said spell assume!"

The young agent stumbled over the letters….

"A"

"S"

"S"

"U"

"M"

"E?"

"That right. That's exactly right. And do you know what that tells us?"

The two young men remained silent, and he continued.

"Assumptions are dangerous things, tenderfoot. They make an A S S out of U and sometimes M E."

One of them grinned and opened his mouth to respond, but Don cut him off.

"I think you've made enough of an ass out of yourself, newbie. And making an ass out of Agent Granger is a good way to get sent home in a crate."

He lifted the lid on the empty box sitting on the break room table.

"If you are not the one who left it here, it does not belong to you! Didn't your mother teach you anything?"

"Yes Sir."

"Well, you must not have been listening when she went over this part."

He leaned over the two, now adequately frightened, young trainees.

"Why don't I remind you? And try not to forget it this time."

He picked up the box and slung it violently across the room making both young men jump out of their chairs.

"NEVER….ever, eat a pizza that belongs to a man who can kill you with nothing more than his thumbs and still make it look like an accident! Now get the hell out of here. You don't want to be sitting in this room when Agent Sinclair turns him loose."

"YES SIR!"

Watching the two fresh faced agents turn pale and flee, Special Agent Megan Reeves crossed the hall and smiling, entered the break room behind her boss.

"That never gets old does it?"

"Not yet…"

Don shook his head, a grin spreading over his face.

"With the GPA's and IQ's I see listed on these applications, you'd think they'd be a little smarter than that, but the unguarded pizza gets them every time."

Megan laughed.

"Poor kids. They were already scared shitless of Granger anyway."

"Speaking of which?"

"David took him around the corner. He figured he should at least hold onto him until they get out of the bull pen."

Don walked across the room and picked up the empty pizza box, depositing it on top of the garbage can in the corner.

Smiling at Megan, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I think the deli down the street has some pretty decent lunch specials."

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Forty minutes later, Don threw his napkin on the table and leaned back in his chair.

"All in all, that wasn't so bad."

Colby looked sullenly at the empty pizza box in the corner.

"It wasn't pepperoni and cheese, but it'll do in a pinch."

The sound of Don's phone ringing prompted the agent to rise.

"I guess this means lunch is over."

He flipped his phone open.

"Eppes?"

Confusion developed on Don's face as he listened to caller.

"Dad? Are you………Slow down. What happened?"

"Charlie? What do you…….What do you mean they took him?"

The other three agents jerked their heads up and stared, no longer caring that they were eavesdropping on a private conversation.

Don looked more and more confused.

"Dad……

Dad…..

ALAN!"

"You're going to have to calm down, Dad."

"It was the LAPD?"

"Of course you looked at their badges."

David and Colby exchanged disbelieving expressions and Megan stood up and put her hands on the table as Don continued speaking.

"Did they say why?"

"No….

No….

Dad….

You just stay home. If they didn't read him his rights……….

NO!

I'll go get him. Trust me Dad, I know how this works."

Don slammed his cell phone shut.

"Those sons of bitches."

Megan leaned over the table.

"Don. Did I hear that right?"

Colby stood up next to Megan.

"Did you just say they arrested Charlie?"

Don shook his head in disbelief.

"Well, they came to the house, said they were with the gang task force and needed to ask Charlie some questions. Dad said he didn't seem to know what they were talking about, but they insisted he did. They ended up taking him in, said they were holding him as a material witness."

"A witness to what?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure as hell gonna find out."

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Coming soon...Chapter Two:Say it ain't so


	2. Say It Ain't So

**Chapter Two: Say it ain't so**

When Don stormed into the central LAPD complex, a familiar face was waiting in the lobby.

"Agent Eppes."

"Lieutenant Walker."

Don never broke his pace as he headed past the veteran officer toward guest check in. He paused at the metal detectors to flash his badge and turned back to his old acquaintance.

"Please tell me you had nothing to do with this."

Lt. Walker raised his hands in front of his chest.

"I just heard about it myself when your Agent Reeves called me to find out what was going on."

"Well?"

"I haven't seen him yet. I talked to the Captain about the case, and then came straight down here to bring you up. But,I'm sure they had just cause to………..."

The irate federal agent interrupted him.

"Just cause? What possible just cause would prompt two of your officers

to come into my brother's house and drag him down here against his will?"

"The same just cause that would require them to question any citizen in their jurisdiction."

Don turned away and headed for the elevator, jamming the button multiple times, as if that would make it arrive faster.

"I'll admit, Eppes, they may have been overzealous in hauling him downtown, but they were well within their rights."

Don ran his hand thru his hair, and looked up at the digital numbers over the elevator. It was still on the 9th floor. Giving up he headed for the door across the hall.

Lt. Walker followed, matching the agent's pace as he took the stairs two at a time.

"He's not in any trouble, Don. But he may have witnessed…………."

"HE DIDN'T!"

Don reached the door to the 4th floor, where the Gang Task Force based its operations and turned to face Lt. Walker.

"If he had seen anything, ANYTHING, that would justify those goons hauling him down here like a…….."

Don stopped himself and lowered his voice.

"Well, don't you think he would have told me?"

"Don, those goons are some of our finest detectives."

He reached past Don and opened the door.

"And they have concrete evidence to suggest he was at the scene."

They headed down the hall and Don gave the Lieutenant a probing glare.

"Evidence? And what scene? Gary? What is this about?"

"He's not a suspect, but they think your brother may have witnessed a fairly brutal gangland slaying."

Don's expression was beyond skeptical. He shook his head to reiterate his original denial, but Lt. Walker continued.

"Don, the West LA 18th has been openly feuding with the East Side's Mara 13th for years. They were killing each other off long before this task force was formed. But now the leaders of this division of the 13th have taken it to the next level. They've been targeting the leaders of the 18th's west side faction. This is starting to take the idea of retaliation to a whole new dimension. No one is even sure as to what started it in the first place. As of right now the other subsets of the 18th are staying out of it, but we don't know how much longer that's gonna last. We've been digging for information on the leadership trees for both gangs, but it's pretty shady. The idea of a witness to one of these killings had the guys pretty worked up. If we could find the main trigger men for the 13th, we have a really good chance of shutting down this chain before it really gets out of hand."

"And what makes them think Charlie was a witness to one of these?"

"They found something with his name on it."

Lt. Walker stepped in front of Don and opened the door into a dark room.

As the door was pulled shut behind him, Don stepped up to the one way glass that separated them from a well-lit interrogation room.

He felt his blood boil as he watched his younger brother sitting at the room's only table.

Charlie was clearly intimidated by the two detectives who were circling the table like vultures. The speakers to the room's surveillance system were not on, but Don didn't need to hear the conversation to know that Charlie was still confused as to why he had been brought there.

Turning and heading for the door, Don almost ran into the plainclothes detective who was entering the room.

"You're just in time. We're just getting started on him. But I'm afraid he's not being very cooperative."

He glanced at Don's badge, openly displayed, hanging from his jacket pocket. "Are we bringing the FBI in on this one, Lieutenant?"

"No, Henry, I'm afraid you brought the FBI in on this one."

The detective look confused.

"Detective Sanders, This is Special Agent Don Eppes. I think you've already met his brother Charlie?"

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"I still don't understand. What is it that you think I need to tell you about?"

"Charlie, there's no point in denying that you were there."

"That I was where? You haven't …..I'm sorry. I still don't….."

"Mr. Eppes, we need to know what you were doing there. You're not a suspect. You're not in any trouble. But we need to know what happened."

"If you don't tell us, we can continue to hold you as a material witness; we could also charge you with obstruction of justice."

Good cop, bad cop. As confused as Charlie was he almost smiled at the stereotypical behavior of the two police officers.

"You said you were with the Gang Task Force, right?"

The officer nodded.

"I'd like to see Lieutenant Walker then."

The detective hid his surprise that Charlie had requested their Lieutenant by name. He shook his head.

"Right now, you're talking to us."

The other detective stepped up to the desk.

"That's right. So, can you tell us why you left your backpack at the scene of a multiple homicide?"

"My backpack?"

Charlie put his hand up to the left side of his head and fingered the fresh scar that streaked across his left temple. He had just had the stitches removed the day before yesterday. He instantly recalled the ordeal that had given him that scar. The memory was still fresh. The subway, the earthquake and the six young men who had made that the most memorable panic attack he'd ever had. The faces of those boys floated thru his mind ending with the memory of the smallest one, leaving that subway tunnel wearing Charlie's backpack.

In an instant all the pieces came together and the two detectives watched the dawning comprehension change Charlie's baffled expression to one of deep concern.

"A kid? Was it a kid?"

The detective nodded.

"That's right. Now, how did you know that, Charlie?"

The door to the room suddenly flew open and Don stepped in, looking like he could bite through nails.

"Charlie, you don't need to say anything else."

"Don. What are you….?"

He paused. Lt. Walker had followed Don through the door. The expression on both of their faces suddenly made Charlie feel as if he had to explain how he had managed to end up in this room.

"I didn't ask for a lawyer, Don. I didn't do anything. They say I'm a material witness. They seem to think…."

"Yeah, I know what they think."

Charlie tried to interrupt.

"Don?"

Don turned to the detectives.

"This is the most ridiculous display of coercion that I have ever seen. And trust me, I've seen a lot. "

"Don?"

Ignoring Charlie's attempt to get his attention, Don continued.

"So unless you plan on charging him with something concrete, or pursuing the material witness charge, we'll be going now."

The two detectives looked from Don to Lt. Walker.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Lieutenant, who the hell is this guy?"

Regardless of his serious demeanor, Lt. Walker looked thoroughly amused.

"Special Agent Don Eppes, Detectives Moore and Benson."

Detective Moore shifted his eyes to Charlie as he made the connection between their last names.

"Eppes huh? Well, Damn."

"Don?"

Still ignoring Charlie, Don addressed Benson and Moore.

"Fellas. I think this interrogation is over."

Charlie tried again.

"Don."

The infuriated federal agent finally turned to face him.

"I think………I think I understand what this is about now, Don."

The wrath that had been aimed at the detectives dissipated.

Walking up next to him, Don put is hand on his shoulder.

"Buddy?"

Charlie looked up at his concerned older brother.

"They found my backpack, Don. The one I………….."

There was a very brief pause as Charlie tried to communicate with his brother using nothing but his eyes. He continued, hoping that Don would understand.

"……the one that was… taken from me……….on the Metro."

Don nodded his head slowly. Taken? That was not what Charlie had told him that night. He had said he lost it, or forgotten it.

_Charlie lied to me? Why would he lie to me?_

Fully comprehending Charlie's nonverbal statement, and not wanting anyone else to pick up on the silent communication, Don kept talking.

"During the earthquake, then? The kids on the Metro with you?"

Reading the remaining, unspoken questions behind Don's eyes, Charlie tried to look apologetic without looking guilty. It didn't work.

"Yeah."

Again Don nodded his head. _Charlie said they helped him get out? What else did they do? _

Don pushed his perplexity aside. He would have to deal with that later.

He turned to Lieutenant Walker and the two detectives.

"Well then, that explains why it was found on a dead body. See, if you had just told him from the beginning what this was about, we'd all still have two hours of our lives. Is there anything else you need from him?"

Lt. Walker addressed his detectives. "Gentlemen, why don't you get a description of the boys who relieved Professor Eppes of his property? Maybe he can give us an ID on the body as the culprit. But we've got no reason to hold him."

He glanced at Don before continuing.

"And gentlemen. Next time, ask questions first."

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Authors Notes: Thanks for all of your comments! Please don't stop. Posting sooner than anticipated due to the extra encouragement….stayed up late and everything.

Chapter Three: Life isn't fair. It's just fairer than death.


	3. Life Isn't Fair, Just Fairer Than Death

**Chapter Three: Life isn't fair, just fairer than death**

Don crossed his arms and leaned against the cold steel table. Lt. Walker looked moderately embarrassed as he followed the still livid federal agent, and the County Medical Examiner through the double doors into the refrigerated storage room at the county morgue.

"I'm sorry about all this, Eppes."

Catching the incensed expression on the younger man's face, he continued.

"I do agree. They acted like idiots. They should have questioned him at his home."

"Well, I hope I didn't undermine your authority in there. But honestly.

They were treating him like he………"

"Agent Eppes?"

The M.E. interrupted, nodding his head back toward the double doors.

Charlie was still standing in the outer room, rubbing his forehead, looking somewhat traumatized and out of place.

Don raised his eyebrows doubtfully at Lt. Walker.

"Do we really need to do this?"

"I hate it, but it would be helpful to know if this is the kid who took his backpack. If he's not, we could still have a potential witness out there somewhere."

Don caught Charlie's eye and waved him into the room.

As the doors swung shut behind him, Don evaluated his brother's expression. Charlie looked like he wanted to throw up. He was pale enough to be one of the bodies lying on these slabs and that image gave Don an oppressive sense of foreboding.

His job with the FBI had provided him with frequent, pervasive glimpses of death. Don was used to it, but never in direct association with Charlie. And those two parts of his life colliding in the same room, this room, made him feel slightly nauseous himself. He moved around the table, trying to clear that offensive vision from his mind. When he put his hand on Charlie's shoulder, he could feel a slight tremor.

_Damn it. He's just not geared up to do this sort of thing._

Walker grabbed a labeled bag from under a table and handed it to Charlie.

"Is this yours?"

A battered navy blue backpack was encased in the bag and the letters

C.E.E. could be seen through the plastic, written in black marker across the right shoulder strap. Charlie nodded, and then looked apprehensively at Don, still trying to gage his reaction to the description of the gang, which he had given the detectives. But his brother was unreadable. With the exception of the dealings he had with Marcus and the gun, he gave them the un-edited version of events, most of which Don hadn't heard.

"Yeah, that's mine."

The officer pulled out another plastic bag, filled with the personal effects of the victim.

"Does any of this look familiar, Charlie?"

At the sight of a bright red pair of basketball shoes, Charlie took a step backwards, staggering right into Don. He turned to his brother; his expressive eyes displayed an unanticipated shock.

"Can I see him?"

Lt. Walker gave Don a wary glance.

"That's why I brought him over here."

Don shrugged and Walker nodded at the M.E., who ambled over to the wall. He pulled a long metal drawer out into the room.

Charlie approached the slab and Don stayed close behind. His younger brother had managed to get a glimpse a few dead bodies while assisting the FBI, but seeing one at such close proximity was something new. And this was someone he may have known. Don didn't even glance at the stiff, his entire focus was on his brother.

Charlie forced himself to look at the body lying on the table. Until he had seen the red high tops, he had expected a much smaller, much younger corpse. But instead of the young boy he had prepared himself to identify, he was, instead, looking at the cold, dead face of an older Hispanic teenager. Not the face he had expected, but a familiar one nevertheless. A white sheet was pulled up to the boys chin, but that didn't hide the bullet hole that was visible in the center of his forehead.

Don watched his brother's shoulders sag as he blew out a deep breath and again reached up to caress the scar on his brow.

"Not who you were expecting, Charlie?"

He shook his head.

"But you do recognize him?"

This time he nodded and Don saw him swallow hard.

"Then, he was there too….on the Metro?"

Charlie's eyes looked glassy as he tore his gaze from the body and looked up at Don, giving him another silent nod.

Lt. Walker moved swiftly across the room, and stood next to the body.

"His name is Jose Menendez. The Mara 13th got four others along with him, his girlfriend and three of his sisters. It looks like they were after his older brother, Roberto. I guess he wasn't home."

Don turned to Lt. Walker. "Why is this so significant, Gary? It's gang members killing gang members. It happens everyday."

The Lieutenant nodded resolutely.

"Maria. She was a snitch. One of our favorites. She'd been dating Jose for a few weeks and had been feeding us information on Roberto's activities. She was our best line on the 18th."

He paused and turned to Charlie.

"So Jose was on the metro with you, but the younger one….this Frankie. He was the one who left with your bag?"

Charlie slowly nodded and he turned his eyes back towards the body.

The M.E. still hadn't closed the drawer and the bullet hole in Jose's forehead was looking more and more like a third eye the longer he looked at it.

Walker continued. "That's good then, Charlie. That means one of the other boys may have been with him when he was killed. These guys are seldom alone. It's a common precaution. So, we could still have a witness to this mess."

Don was watching Charlie's face. His brother still looked like he wanted to throw up and Don was starting to wonder how much longer he was going to be able to hold it down.

Walker moved toward the back of the room.

"Don, hang on and I'll walk you out. I'm gonna call in a BOLO for these five other kids."

Without warning, the M.E. shoved the drawer containing the body back into the wall. The resounding thud made Charlie jump.

Without waiting for the Lieutenant, Don put his hand on Charlie's back and pushed him away from the wall of drawers. Charlie remained silent and let his older brother steer him through the double doors and out of the building, pausing in the parking lot when he finally decided to lose his lunch.

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Authors Notes: Keep those comments coming! I had no idea how motivating it is to know you have someone waiting for the next chapter. It's great to read your impressions of where I may be going next, and commenting on the direction it's headed so far. AND…..if you care enough to let me know I made a mistake, then you must be enjoying the story or you wouldn't bother to let me know. So thanks for all your comments, including the ones that question my choice of words!

It's just good to know you're out there!

Next Chapter: Just between you and me.


	4. Just Between You and Me

**Chapter Four: Just between you and me**

Don took his eyes off the road to glance at his brother. Charlie sat slumped in the seat, staring out the window, looking pallid and a little like he was going to be sick again. He hadn't spoken since they'd left the morgue. Don wanted to give him a few minutes to pull himself together, but _he _also wanted some answers. His impatience was starting to get the best of him when Charlie finally lifted his head to look at his older brother. Silently and hesitantly, he raised his eyes to Don, giving him permission to start his own interrogation.

"How well did you know this kid, Charlie?"

"He was on the Metro."

"The night of the quake? He was there?"

"Yeah."

"That was it…that's the only time you've ever met him?"

"Yeah."

"And he stole your backpack?"

"No…it….."

Don slammed his hands against the steering wheel, making Charlie flinch.

"If a bunch of gang bangers ripped you off, why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"They didn't, Don. It wasn't like that."

"Charlie, you can't lie worth a damn."

Charlie looked dejected.

"I…I didn't lie. I just failed to disclose all the facts and…………"

Don cut him off, recognizing the tentativeness in his brothers voice.

"Something else happened down there besides what you told me, besides what you said in your statement to those detectives. What was it, Charlie?"

Charlie shook his head. Stopping at a red light, Don turned to look at his brother.

"If they didn't help themselves to your stuff, then how did they get it? What happened?"

The light turned and Don hit the gas, steering his SUV onto the exit that would take them to Pasadena. Trying to soften the imposing quality in his voice, he threw Charlie a concerned glance as he checked is mirrors and merged into traffic.

"Charlie, come on. I need to know what's going on."

After an extended silence, Charlie cleared his throat.

"One of the older kids. He had a gun. He shot out the window. That's how we got off the train. One of them had a gun and he shot out the glass."

"A gun, Charlie?"

He nodded.

"That's how we got out, yeah."

"You were afraid to tell me that he fired a gun to break the glass?"  
Don shook his head doubtfully. He knew Charlie was telling the truth, but there had to be more to it than that. Like he had said…he wasn't disclosing the facts. Charlie had never been good at hiding a lie and even worse at telling one…at least to him.

Maybe that was why he usually chose to tell him nothing at all.

Don exhaled loudly. Only one way to find out.

"Well, I guess as long as he wasn't pointing it at you, or smacking you around with it, we don't have a problem."

Out of the corner of his eye, Don saw a shadow pass over his brother's face and his heart dropped.

"Did they threaten you?"

Charlie turned his head to look out the window again.

"Don't worry about it, Don. That has nothing to do with this."

"Don't worry about it! Charlie? Damn it! I'm worried about it!"

Charlie continued to look out the window without acknowledging his questions. Don took one hand off the wheel and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Did he hurt you? Is that what happened to your head? Charlie?"

Charlie jerked away from him and turned in indignation.

"NO! God. Do you just think the worst of everybody? The kid got himself shot. He's dead! That doesn't mean he was a monster. That doesn't make him a bad kid."

Don gave an exaggerated sigh and took his eyes off the road to glance at his brother.

"No. He was just an innocent gang banger with a rap sheet a mile long."

"He saw four people he cared about get gunned down and then got a matching bullet hole of his very own. GOD! Don…."

Charlie leaned back into his seat.

"He just……I just don't think he deserved to die that way."

"They seldom do, Charlie. But that's the price he paid for the life he chose."

Charlie shook his head. He'd seen the research. He knew the statistics.

"Do you really think he chose it, Don? Or did it choose him? He was only seventeen."

As Don pulled into the driveway and put the SUV in park, he turned to face his brother.

"You make your own future, Charlie. You choose your own fate. He always had a choice."

Charlie looked overwrought and rapidly shook his head in disbelief.

"Really, Don. How many options do you think he had?"

Don jerked the keys out of the ignition, getting more and more exasperated at his younger brother.

"Well, Charlie. I guess once his brains were splattered all over the wall, yeah….He kinda ran out of options. Maybe if you'd told me the truth from the beginning, I could have done something about this. Maybe he would have been in Juvi instead of the morgue."

Don saw the hurt look pass over his brothers face and without responding, Charlie hopped out of the truck and slammed his door. He didn't even look over his shoulder, as he headed for the house.

When he opened the front door and walked into the entryway, Alan jumped up from his chair like he had been shot out of a cannon.

"Charlie? Are you ok? Son? What happened?"

Don followed Charlie through the front door and slammed it hard behind him to demonstrate his irritation. Charlie jerked at the sound, but didn't turn to face his brother.

Don glanced at Alan, trying to neutralize his desire to grab Charlie by the shoulders and spin him around.

"He's fine Dad. Everything is fine."

Alan picked up on the tension between his sons, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Keeping his back to Don, Charlie gave his father a forced smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Dad. Don worked it all out, just like he always does. I'm sure he'd be glad to tell you all about it. I have work to do."

Charlie turned into the kitchen and headed out the back door toward the garage without another word.

Alan barely had time to give his older a son a questioning glance when Don stalked past him and followed Charlie out the back door. Alan followed, but remained on the back step and watched as Don caught up to Charlie halfway across the yard.

"Are you just going to walk away from me, Charlie?"

He grabbed his younger brother by the arm, but Charlie forcefully jerked his arm away and opened the door to the garage, disappearing inside.

"Donnie? What's going on?"

Looking back at his father, Don could see the anxiety etched on his face and he felt his own frustrations ebbing away.

"Dad….I….."

"Is Charlie in some sort of trouble? Donnie. What happened?"

Don shook his head and walked back across the yard.

"No. I just….I said something stupid, ok. Just give me a minute with him."

Alan looked hesitant.

"We'll explain in a minute, Dad. Just let me talk to him first."

With a silent nod, Alan turned and headed back into the kitchen, casting a doubtful glance over his shoulder as he passed through the door.

Don took a deep breath and walked slowly into the garage after his brother.

Charlie had headed straight for the chalk board in the center of the room and had already covered the right half of it with a series of numbers.

He never looked away from the board when Don walked up behind him.

"I wasn't saying it was your fault. I didn't mean it like that, Charlie."

"No Don, of course you didn't."

Moving to the left side of the board, Charlie started on an extended equation keeping his back to his brother.

"Charlie….They threatened you with a gun and you don't talk to me? How did you expect me to react to that information?"

Charlie kept writing.

Don felt himself getting frustrated again. Charlie's silence could always irritate him worse than anything else.

"The one person in your life who could do something about it,"

He bit his lip and tried to take the exasperation out of his voice.

"I would have done something about it and you chose not to tell me? Charlie?"

The younger Eppes circled his answer on the board, gave a resolute sigh, and then turned to face his brother.

"That's _why _I didn't tell you everything, Don….about the gang….about the gun. I knew you'd…..be Don. You'd get all…..you know and …well…."

Charlie tried to smile.

"It just didn't seem necessary."

"NECESSARY? They pointed a gun at you!"

The new surge of anger in Don's voice made Charlie cringe.

"Don, I don't …….……"

"You don't what, Charlie?"

Charlie stared at the floor and rubbed is forehead with a chalk covered hand.

"I…don't…..I don't…understand why I can talk back to a kid with a gun and stare him down, but I can't manage to look you in the eye when you're pissed off at me. That doesn't seem fair somehow."

Don stepped away from Charlie, relinquishing his animosity. Sitting down on the couch at the end of the garage, he leaned over with his elbows on his knees and stared at his brother.

"Charlie. I just wish you'd told me the truth."

Charlie nodded cautiously.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Don. I thought I handled it pretty well. We all walked away. They learned something, I learned something and everybody got to live….especially me. When the kid left with my backpack, it just didn't seem that important."

He paused waiting for Don to reemphasize the importance of talking to him…but his older brother remained silent. Just like that, he was done chewing him out.

Charlie let his own defenses down and brought his argument to a close.

"Besides, I needed a good excuse to get a new lap top. That seemed like just the thing."

Don tried to suppress a smile. He pulled himself to his feet.

"Dad's waiting in the kitchen. He's probably made a dozen different casseroles by now."

"He was pretty freaked out, huh?"

"Yeah, and the way you just marched through the house and straight out here didn't

exactly alleviate his concern."

"I suppose I owe him an explanation."

"It wouldn't hurt. You're the one who has to live with him."

Charlie tossed his chalk onto the table and headed for the door.

"Um, Charlie?"

"Yeah."

"Leave out the part about identifying the body. And don't tell him about the gun. And maybe….well….."

Charlie nodded, a smirk spreading across his face.

"The same reason why I didn't tell you everything?"

Don pulled his jacket straight and tried to look coy.

"I'm not too worried about him going on a gang busting rampage, but…….well…..just let me do all the talking, ok?"

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Authors Notes: Thanks again for the feedback. Please take the time to leave a comment if you aren't in the habit of doing so.

For those of you who comment faithfully - THANK YOU! I've tried to reply to as many comments as I could...if I missed you, know that I am glad to know you are still reading!

And just to keep you intrigued...I'm getting started on the cliffhangers here! Just you wait...I'm excited by the progression of the next chapter and I can't wait to post it!

Chapter Five: This can't be good.


	5. This Can't Be Good

**Chapter Five: This can't be good.**

Something thunked.

Charlie sat up in bed and stared at the clock. The bright red digital numbers gave the room a surreal glow. It was only two am.

Straining his ears for any unnatural sounds; Charlie sat up in bed and put his feet on the floor. He sat there and clearly identified four sources of noise. The air conditioner; the fan in the computer, which he forgot to turn off; the water dripping from his bathroom faucet, he'd forgotten to call a plumber too; and of course, the normal sounds of the house settling.

He almost laughed at himself. He was wide awake now, and there was no hope of getting back to sleep. Charlie slowly got to his feet and crept out his bedroom door. Through the closed door at the end of the hall, he could hear his father snoring. Grinning, Charlie tiptoed past the solid oak door and headed down the stairs. He paused at the bottom step. It was barely audible, but his father was still snoring steadily. After almost thirty years of moving stealthily up and down these old wooden stairs, he hadn't made a sound.

He reached for the light switch. A resounding thump from the kitchen stopped him in his tracks. Charlie stood frozen as a dim light suddenly illuminated the dark kitchen. He could see a shifting shadow cast in the small beam. The light went out as he heard what sounded like the refrigerator door closing, followed by……the unmistakable sound of a beer being twisted open.

Charlie smiled to himself, almost laughing out loud and continued to move clandestinely toward the kitchen door.

"You do realize its two am."

Don quickly jerked his head toward the voice, his right hand moving automatically to the holster at his hip. He shook his head at Charlie. "Haven't you learned by now not to sneak up on me like that?"

"Haven't you learned by now not to sneak into this house in the middle of the night?"

Don laughed.

"No."

"Nah, me neither."

Don took a swig of his beer.

"What are you doing up?"

Charlie leaned up against the kitchen table.

"Well, I heard someone crashing around my house in the middle of the night and I thought I should make sure it wasn't some maniac with a gun drinking all my beer."

Smiling, Don walked around to the table and pulled out a chair.

"Sorry, I was trying to be quite."

"S'Okay. I couldn't sleep anyway. I was just heading out to the garage."

"Still working on that emergence thingy?"

"Cognitive Emergence Theory….no. I have a few equations I was working on for Larry."

"The gravity thing."

"Yeah, the gravity thing."

Don gave him a tired smile.

"Hey, you're lucky I remember that much."

Charlie looked serious for a minute.

"Did they find them?"

Don shook his head.

"No. Detective Moore has some mug shots lined up that match the descriptions of the other five boys. He wanted you to come by in the morning and try to pick them out."

Don leaned back in his chair.

"I've been kinda busy most of the night. Sorry, I didn't have a chance to call you, but I told him that was fine. I figured it would be easier for me to crash here and then I can just take you by in the morning on your way to class."

Charlie opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.

"Why didn't he call me? "

"Would _you_ have called you after what happened this afternoon?"

"I guess not."

He paused and turned to Don.

"I've got to be at the office before nine. I've got a class."

Don nodded and finished off his beer.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower and crash. Wake me up about six if you're still up. We mortals need our sleep."

Charlie saluted his older brother and grinning from ear to ear, headed out the backdoor. The moon was bright and reflected off the koi pond, illuminating most of the backyard. He opened the door to his proverbial sanctuary and walked across the room without turning on the light. Sidestepping the small end-table that he knew was there, he moved around to the floor lamp behind the couch.

A familiar voice stopped his hand inches from the switch.

"Well, Math Man. I figured you for a night owl. Looks like I was right."

Charlie turned toward the voice, trying to make out any shapes in the darkness. "Marcus?"

He reached out again for the light.

"Leave it off….."

This voice was unfamiliar. There was a disturbing tone in the new voice that Charlie couldn't quite discern.

"Marcus? What are you guys doing in my garage?"

Marcus didn't reply. Instead a third voice from the other side of the room laughed.

"Waitin' for you."

The other, deeper voice spoke again.

"He's here 'cause I wanna talk to you."

"How did you….."

"We seen you at the morgue with the suit. He a cop?"

"Um….Something like that…."

"Marcus said he knew you….gave us your name. You were easy to find."

Charlie turned to the last place he had heard Marcus's voice.

"Marcus, the cops want to talk to you."

The deep voice interceded.

"How much you tell 'em?"

Charlie, although frustrated by the proposed interrogation, answered without hesitation.

"Well, I had to explain how my backpack ended up in a west side ghetto with a bunch of bullet riddled corpses."

From out of the darkness someone grabbed Charlie under the chin and slammed into his chest propelling him backwards against the wall.

When the deep voice spoke again, he was in Charlie's face.

"That was my house…my brother, my sisters. Use respect when you speak of the dead."

Charlie tried to utter an apology, but the hand on his throat made it nearly impossible to breathe, much less speak. He heard Marcus pleading with the older man.

"Roberto, don't. Jose liked this guy. He wasn't an asshole to us, man."

The grip around his neck was released, allowing him to breathe freely. But the arm across his chest, holding him off the floor and against the wall remained in place.

"The cops came 'round. They knew stuff….stuff they didn't know before. Wha'd you tell 'em?"

Before Charlie could answer, the door from the backyard suddenly swung open and a tall figure filled the entryway.

"Hey, genius? What the hell are you doing sitting out here in the dark?"

Without waiting for an answer, Don flipped the wall switch, flooding the garage with florescent light.

Realization was instantaneous for Don when he saw his brother being help up off the floor by a large Hispanic man. His trained eyes took in the other five men scattered around the room and the younger teenager who stood almost right next to Charlie. He met his brother's frightened eyes. He had never seen Charlie look so utterly petrified.

Everything happened so quickly that Charlie barely had time to register everyone's reaction. Don spotted the automatic weapon in the older man's hand just as he, in turn, spotted the badge and gun that still hung from Don's belt. Don's hand moved instinctively to his holster and in a split second, the man holding Charlie stepped backwards and twisted himself around pulling Charlie up in front of him. The five other men in the room moved for their guns and the teenage boy backed himself into the corner next to Charlie. He looked almost as terrified as Charlie did.

When he felt the barrel of Roberto's gun poke into the side of his head, Charlie squeezed his eyes shut.

Don's hand froze over his holster, his weapon un-drawn.

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa……"

Don brought his left hand up.

"Everybody just settle down."

For a few moments, no one spoke or moved as their eyes adjusted to the light. Don shifted his attention back to his brother. Charlie had opened his eyes again and was staring at him, trying to give a detailed explanation without words, but all Don could read was fear. Charlie's eyes were wide and startled, but much to Don's surprise, he spoke to the younger man who had an arm wrapped around his neck.

"Roberto, please."

His voice was shaking so hard he could barely continue speaking.

"Don't do anything stupid. This guy is …."

The man, Roberto, tightened his hold around Charlie's neck, cutting him off.

"I see the badge. This guy's a freaking FED. Why are the freaking FED's staking out your house? Unless…."

He paused and after a moment's contemplation, he cocked his head at Don.

"They knew we'd come here."

He turned his head to look at the young man next to Charlie.

"You turn rat on us, Marcus?"

"No, no way, man. I wouldn't. He must have followed us here."

Don was running through negotiation techniques and he had almost missed it. Charlie had given him this guy's name. Roberto…he must be Jose's brother. He felt the cold concrete beneath his bare feet and hoped to God they didn't notice his lack of walking apparel.

"You don't exactly try to travel incognito, Mr. Menendez."

He almost stuttered. What if he didn't have the same last name as Jose?

But the young man responded to the fact that he knew his name.

"So the FED's have a line on the 18th, huh? That's too bad."

Don kept his left hand up, chest level, without changing his position or removing his right hand from the butt of his .40 caliber handgun.

"Everything is cool, Roberto. You just let that man go and we'll talk about this."

"Ok, talk."

"Put the gun down. Let him walk out of here."

"Not a chance G-man. We know how this works. How many are outside?"

"It's just me, Roberto. Just me. Let him go."

"YOU'RE LYING!"

The grip around Charlie's throat tightened again and he had to gasp for his next breath. Through watering eyes, he watched Don attempt to subdue his reaction to his distress.

Don maintained his defensive position and fought to maintain his professional persona. He remembered his training and tried to distance himself from his emotions.

"Roberto, hurting this man isn't going to help you."

"SHUT UP. SHUT THE HELL UP."

Roberto was getting nervous. Very nervous. For the guy with the gun to his head, that seldom turned out well. Don tossed the rule book out the window. He relinquished his stance and changed position, putting both his hands in the air. Time to try something new. He had to get Charlie away from this guy. He hoped they would continue their assumption that the building was surrounded and not fill them both full of holes.

"Ok, fella. Just take it easy. If you need a hostage, take me. Just let him go."

Charlie started to shake his head, but Roberto's grip around his neck prevented him from objecting to Don's suggestion. Roberto motioned for his posse to follow him toward the door.

"No way. We're walking outta here right now, and this guy's comin' with us. You back up outta here and tell your men to back off!"

For the first time that he could remember, Don couldn't think of a single tactical maneuver to get out of this one. He had no back-up, and his mild-mannered, math professor brother had a gun to his head. Charlie wasn't going to try anything that would give him an opening and he wouldn't have asked him to.

He nodded to Roberto.

"Ok, I'm backing up…just take it easy."

He slowly backed up out the door and into the yard. Five gang members filed out, covering Roberto as he pulled Charlie around toward the front of the house. Charlie had started to panic and was struggling hard. It was slowing the procession down and Don could see Roberto tighten his arm around Charlie's throat. As they made their way across the yard, Don considered his options. He ran through every possible scenario and every one of them ended with a dead Charlie.

Any hope of coming up with a non-violent way to end this was cut short when the porch light flipped on. He could read his brother's expression and it was easy to determine who was standing at the back door. As the screen door swung open, Don evaluated the six well armed strangers in the backyard and he knew what would happen next. Don locked eyes with Charlie and in a millisecond a thousand words were exchanged.

Without hesitation, Don moved quickly to his left and dove for his father, who was still standing, flabbergasted, in the open doorway. Before he could bring them both to the ground, the sound of a dozen semi-automatic weapons being fired in succession filled the moon lit night.

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Authors Notes: Well, not where I _was _going, but now we head in _this _direction. It just sort of happened. I'll see where it takes us and let you know tomorrow.

Funny how things just sort of end up writing themselves sometimes. I hope it works for you! Let me know what you're thinking! (As if I have to say that every time….but I do anyway.)

Chapter 6: I'd rather be fishing


	6. I'd Rather Be Fishing

**Chapter Six: I'd rather be fishing**

Charlie sat on the floorboard in the backseat of a beat-up Chevy Cavalier. Marcus sat in front of him, wedged into the corner by three Hispanic men who looked to be almost the same age as the dismayed mathematician. They were laughing and speaking rapidly in Spanish. Although Charlie had taken Spanish as a foreign language credit for his first B.A., try as he may he couldn't understand a word of their dialect.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to replay the final scene from his backyard. But he was unable to dismiss the images from his mind. His father had walked out the back door right into the middle of a stand off between Don and these six men. At the first sign of another person, even an old man in his pajamas, these guys open fired. He saw Don dive toward the door, toward their father, but then Roberto had pulled him around the corner and down the sidewalk, where he had shoved him into the floorboard of the car. The others quickly piled in after them and they had taken off down the street, a few of them still firing wayward shots out the windows of the car at nothing in particular.

Charlie felt a heavy oppression centered over his chest. He wanted to scream and cry…or just start hitting them…..these laughing bastards who had, more likely than not, just shot his father and his brother. Instead, Charlie continued to stare at the four pairs of legs that lined the back seat and tried to suppress the anger, grief, and fear that was welling up inside him. He blinked away his tears, but Marcus saw them.

He leaned forward and spoke quietly.

"Was that your old man?"

Charlie nodded slowly.

"Dude, I think it's ok. It looked like the FED got in the way."

Charlie tried to suppress a sob, but failed. Marcus must have interpreted it as an expression of relief since he leaned back in the seat. Then he crossed his arms in a defensive posture.

"Roberto just wanted to talk to you about what you told the cops. If that FED hadn't shown up, you'd be home in bed by now. This wasn't supposed to happen. We didn't come there to hurt you."

Charlie looked scornfully at the young man as he rubbed his throat, where several bruises were starting to form. He tried to hide the shaking in his voice, without much success.

"And whatdo you think happens to me next, Marcus?"

Roberto suddenly leaned his head over the front seat to glare shrewdly at him.

"Well, you're not dead yet….but I think your FED is. He was sure determined that you weren't leaving with us…wasn't he?"

The man gave him a knowing look.

"Maybe if he'd had his shoes on, he coulda moved a little faster."

Charlie darted his eyes at the gangster. These guys meant business. They were the real deal, not just a common run of the mill group of wanna-be gang bangers. Now they knew he was connected to the FBI. Charlie swallowed hard. They hadn't expected a confrontation when they came to his house. Although not likely, they might have talked to him and left, but it was to late for that now. If this was the leadership group for the 18th that Lt. Walker and his task force had been looking for, he might as well call it quits right now and try to hurl himself out the door of the car. As if reading his mind, the man next to Marcus pulled his gun and shoved it into Charlie's face.

"Don't go nowhere just yet."

Charlie curled himself up in the floorboard, and leaned toward the door, trying to get farther away from the gun. But there was no where to go and the man followed him with it, keeping the barrel directly in his face. He looked up and stared accusingly at Marcus. The young man, well aware of the situation he was responsible for, shrugged his shoulders and turned his head, unable to look him in the eye.

Charlie buried his face between his knees, mostly to keep his eyes off the gun that was now pressed directly against the top of his head. He tried to imagine that his father was alright. That Don was alright. That his brother had been fast enough. Fast enough for both of them.

He considered praying….but it had been so long.

No. Don was fast. He was alright and he had already called his team together.

Megan, Colby and David. Even Lt. Walker. The whole FBI. Maybe the entire LAPD. They all knew he was out here. They would find him.

Charlie felt something poke him hard in the side of the head, prompting him to raise his eyes. He found himself looking directly down the barrel of the gun now. He lifted his head the rest of the way and the man grinned at him, resting the gun on Charlie's forehead, directly between his eyes.

He remembered Jose and how he had looked on that slab in the morgue.

Closing his eyes against the sensation of cold steel against his skin, Charlie found no solace in his usual refuge. The numbers wouldn't talk to him and the silence in his mind was devastating.

So Charlie did pray……that he wasn't going to die in the backseat of a beat-up Chevy Cavalier.

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Authors Notes: I know it's a short Chapter.I'm hoping to post chapter seven later today as it will be short as well.

Keep your comments coming! I love it! You're cracking me up...and making me type faster.Don't stop now, you've got me on a roll!

(Oh, and I researched Mexican/Salvadorian street gangs in LA for this piece...and they are pretty darn brutal. It's not unheard of for them to just...well, up and kill people.)

Chapter Seven: Well, you're not Superman

(YES - I'm talking about Don!)


	7. Well, You're Not Superman

**Chapter Seven: Well, you're not Superman**

Don could hear a woman screaming. At least that was what it sounded like at first. Then somewhere behind the incessant shrieking, he could hear someone talking.

"Agent Eppes, I need you to open your eyes."

"His name is Don."

That voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Don, open your eyes. I need you to open your eyes."

As badly as he wanted to, Don just couldn't bring himself to obey. His head felt like he had been struck with a sledgehammer. He was certain that any attempt to interact with his environment was going to be extremely unpleasant and he just didn't want to deal with that right now.

He tried to replay the events of the day in an attempt to figure out where he was and why his head hurt so much, but his ears were ringing and he couldn't concentrate.

"Come on, Donnie. Open your eyes and look at me, son."

The face that went with that trembling voice appeared clearly in his mind. With all the effort he could muster, Don peeled his eyelids open.

"Dad?"

"Oh, thank God."

All he could see were bright lights and Don kept his eyes at a squint. Taking in his surroundings with as little head movement as possible, he recognized the interior of an ambulance. The uniformed EMT sitting directly above him confirmed his supposition. Why was he in an ambulance? Then he remembered the expression on his brother's face when the back porch light turned on.

"Charlie."

Don tried to sit up, but two strong hands pushed his shoulders back down.

"You need to stay still, Agent Eppes. Try not to move. You've been shot. We're taking you across town to Cedars. Just take it easy."

The searing pain and incredible pounding sensation in his head was suddenly far more alarming than it had been. He remembered the hail of bullets, diving for his father…and then…..the whole world had exploded before they had hit the ground. Don attempted to raise his hand to assess the damage for himself, but someone had a death grip on his fingers. He managed to twist his neck slightly to the left and met his father's eyes. He could tell he had been weeping and somehow that was more upsetting than the uncertainty of his injury.

Alan could see the panic openly displayed on his eldest son's pained features. The expression was an unfamiliar one and seeing Don look so scared was, in and of itself, terrifying. But, the blood seeping through the gauze that had been wrapped tightly around his head took Alan beyond any level of fear he had ever experienced. Despite his desire to come completely unglued, he blinked his tears away and squeezed Don's hand reassuringly.

"Donnie, it's going to be ok."

Don closed his eyes again. Leaning over next to him Alan spoke quietly, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Look at me, son."

Don forced his eyes open again and looked at his father's tear stained face.

"You were shot in the head, Donnie………You'll be alright, son. You just need to stay awake for me. We're almost there, ok?"

Squeezing his hand back in reply, Don blinked rapidly, attempting to contemplate what he had just been told. He tried to assess his normal thought processes through the throbbing pain in his head. If it was bad, really bad, he sure as hell wouldn't be thinking this clearly. He squeezed his father's hand harder…just to see if he could and tried to remember which part of the brain controlled muscle movement. It didn't feel like he had a bullet hole in his skull…assuming he could properly guess what that would feel like. No, He didn't think that has happened, but damn did his head hurt. Regardless of that, he was thinking rationally…at least he thought so. But he was talking and he was conscious. That had to be a good indication that his brain was still intact.

He tried to sound stronger when he spoke this time, but it still came out as a whisper.

"Where is he?"

When Alan didn't reply, Don turned his head toward his father despite the collar that the EMT had placed around his neck.

"Dad? Charlie?"

Alan furrowed his brow, looking uncertain.

"I don't think he was hit...but……"

"He's gone?"

He nodded, his eyes filling up again.

"Yes. They took him with them. Who where they, Donnie?"

Don tried to set up again.

"I need to talk to……"

Alan interrupted him.

"I called David after I dialed 911, he made it to the house before the ambulance did."

Don allowed himself to be pushed back down. Leaning his head back he listened to the siren wail and willed himself to say awake.

His team was already on it.

They were good.

The best there was.

They would find these guys.

They would find Charlie.

They had to.

Because he couldn't.

Authors Notes: As I said, another short chapter…but I needed to split them up this way. Hope it was good enough to warrant it's short length. Don't abandon me. Comment away! I know you want to!

Chapter Eight: Sleep is a Luxury Item


	8. Sleep is a Luxury Item

**Chapter Eight: Sleep is a Luxury Item **

When Special Agent Colby Granger pulled his four door sedan onto the usually quite residential street, he couldn't help but be stunned by the level of activity around the familiar Craftsman house at the end of the block.

Being woke up by a phone call at three thirty in the morning was never a good sign. He had grown accustomed to it. It was part of the job. But this time, he had really been caught off guard.

David had only said five words.

"Don's been shot, Charlie's house…"

Colby had hung up the phone without replying. He threw on his jeans and pulled a shirt over his head on the way out the door. It had taken him fifteen minutes to get to Pasadena. For what usually took a half an hour, driving at full speed on a good traffic day, he thought that was pretty good time, even for the middle of the night.

He rolled down his window and flashed his badge at the cop standing next to a saw horse style barricade and the officer lifted the gate aside and let him drive through.

As he pulled in front of the historic house, he spotted Megan's Jeep Cherokee parked halfway in the front yard. She had almost hit the fire hydrant. As he pulled up along the curb not quite behind the jeep and switched the transmission to park, he hoped she had remembered to pull the emergency brake. Halfway up the front walkway, he realized he forgot to close his car door, but didn't bother to turn back around. Someone would shut it.

Spot lights had already been set up in the backyard and the illumination shone over the chimney. It looked as if the sun itself was rising over the house.

Colby flashed his badge again and another officer lifted the yellow tape that now ran from the side of the house to the Japanese maple at the end of Charlie's koi pond.

He spotted David sitting in the shadows, on the step next to the back door. There was broken glass everywhere and an area that, from a distance, looked like a pool of transmission fluid staining the drive in front of him. As he got closer, Colby could see the crimson tint of the puddle. David looked up at him as he approached. He was wearing what had been a white t-shirt. Now it was red.

David looked down at his shirt and back up at Colby answering the unspoken question.

"He's on his way to Cedars-Sinai's trauma center."

"What the hell happened, David."

The other agent shook his head.

"I'm really not sure. Alan could only tell me what he saw."

Colby looked at the bullet holes that riddled the side of the house, then at the puddle of blood on the driveway. He scanned the yard looking for anything that could shed light on the unknown details. His eyes were accustomed to taking in every element of a crime scene and he didn't miss the deep treads in the grass that lead across the back yard where someone had dug their heels in. It looked like whoever had been dragged through there hadn't gone quietly.

"Charlie?"

David looked hesitant to voice any conclusion.

"Alan said there were at least four, maybe more. He only saw Charlie for a second. Walked into something…..said Don had his hands up, they were using Charlie as a shield. Don went straight for Alan when the shooting started. He never even drew his weapon, he was hit on the way down."

"How bad?"

David looked at the splotches of crimson on his clothes.

"I need to get a clean shirt. I can't walk around like this."

Colby nodded and summoned a fresh faced rookie from inside the house.

"Get Agent Sinclair a clean shirt, would ya?"

He turned back to David and waited.

"He was hit in the head, Colby."

David voice shook with emotion.

"Just over his left ear. It looked like it……..I don't know how bad. It could have just skimmed him, but man there was a lot of blood. Scared the shit out of me."

"Head wounds bleed worse than anything else, Sinclair. That doesn't mean anything."

Megan had walked up behind him and put her hand on his arm.

"I just talked to dispatch. He's at Cedars and he's conscious now. One of us should go talk to him."

"Where is Charlie?"

Colby put voice to the question none of them wanted to have to answer.

David looked apprehensively toward the road.

"Neighbor ran over here after the shooting stopped and saw a car drive off in a hurry….early 90's model Chevy, not sure what color…dark. We're assuming they took Charlie with them."

"Do you think they came for him?"

David shrugged.

"The garage shows signs of forced entry. Maybe he walked in on a robbery? But there's nothing of value in there….nothing material, I mean."

Megan made fists with both her hands and brought them up under her chin.

"Guys, I'm thinking……this whole thing this morning, with Walker and the Gang Task Force……."

"Yeah, Don told us about it when he got back to the office."

David nodded at Megan in agreement.

"Alan said it was a group of young men, possibly Hispanic, maybe in their twenties."

Colby shook his head.

"But why? If one of those gangs considered him a threat, then they came here to kill him….why take him anywhere?"

Megan's face displayed the concern they were all feeling.

"That's the question of the day then, isn't it Granger?"

Looking grim, Colby answered his own query.

"Because Don showed up and they panicked. They thought they needed Charlie for their getaway."

David rubbed his hands together.

"Right, but if that's the case….."

"Then they'll just take him somewhere else and kill him."

"Right."

While over a dozen uniformed LAPD officers and twice as many crime scene investigators milled around the backyard in the performance of their duties, the three agents exchanged an extended moment of silence.

Finally Megan took a deep breath.

"I'll go see if Don…..what Don can tell us."

She turned and headed for her jeep.

David sighed and looked at Colby.

"I need to stay here for now….can you………"

The agent from inside the house stepped up, and interrupting, handed David a shirt on a hanger.

"One of the detectives had a spare."

Even if he was a little wet behind the ears at least he could follow orders.

David acknowledge the young rookie.

"Let's get an APB out on that car. And have the M.E's office notify us of any…….."

He stopped. David couldn't bring himself to say it out loud and Colby finished the thought for him.

"We need to know about any bodies that turn up without ID. Give them a description of Professor Eppes. Tell them to call me first….not the office, not Don, not Alan….nobody but me, do you understand?"

The younger man nodded his head. "Yes, Sir. I'm on it."

Colby turned for his car. "I'll head downtown. The GTF needs to know about this, and I'll call Lieutenant Walker. He might be able to shed some light on a few things."

David watched him leave and then looked around again at the back yard. Someone had stepped on the rhododendron. He had just shared a meal with the Eppes family a few short weeks ago and Charlie had told him how hard it was to get the Japanese variety to grow in this region.

He saw a uniformed officer stomp through the flower bed that surrounded the pond and he grabbed the man as he walked by.

"Weren't you ever taught not to walk through the flowers? Did they not cover that at the academy? It's six more steps to go around the damn things!"

He raised his voice above the den, yelling at no one in particular. "Will someone put some tape around the damn garden. Agent Eppes is gonna be pissed if we tear up his brother's back-yard."

He headed into the house then, to change his shirt just as the first signs of the dawn became visible on the horizon.

It was going to be another beautiful day in Los Angeles.

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Authors Notes: Thank you all for the encouraging comments and the delightful commentary on this story thus far. Please, please continue!

This thing seems to have a life of it's own and I hope it doesn't go and do anything stupid.

Chapter Nine: Eternity only takes an hour


	9. Eternity Only Takes an Hour

****

Chapter Nine: Eternity only takes an hour

When Special Agent Megan Reeves walked into the trauma center waiting room at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, she had expected things to be quiet. It was, after all, not quite five in the morning. But the place was rocking. There were babies screaming and people crying. Not a single seat in the waiting room was empty. She stood in the doorway for several minutes and tried to find Alan Eppes among the unruly horde without any luck.

She made her way to the nurses' station and flashed her badge, but no one stopped moving long enough to see her standing there. After a few minutes, Megan loudly cleared her throat and a frazzled looking blond in her mid forties looked up from the desk.

"Special Agent Reeves, FBI. I'm looking for a trauma patient that was just brought in. Don Eppes?"

"You'll have to give us a minute young lady. All hell just broke loose in here."

Megan shook her head.

"No, Ma'am. All hell is going to break loose if you don't point me in the direction of Don Eppes. He's a federal agent…..Gunshot wound to the head. Where is he?"

The older woman looked taken aback, but stopped to type a few things into her computer.

"We have a GSW in trauma one - that way. No name yet, but it may be your guy."

"Thank you."

Megan turned and walked in the direction the nurse had pointed.

She rounded the corner to trauma one and peeked in through the swinging double doors. A young orderly grabbed her arm.

"You can't go in there Ma'am."

She turned to face him and he took a step back when he noted the gun on her hip.

"Sorry, Officer. I didn't….."

She tried to look friendly and smiled at the young man.

"I'm looking for Don Eppes, is he in there?"

"Megan!"

She turned at the sound of her name and saw a frantic Alan Eppes heading down the hall toward her.  
"Mr. Eppes….how is he?"

"He's still conscious. They said that's a really good sign. They just took him down for an X-ray and a CT scan….I couldn't……they wouldn't let me go in, so I ran up here to call David. Have they found Charlie?"

"Not yet. We've got every agent we have on this. We'll find him."

She wished she felt as confident as she sounded as she took Alan's arm and turned him back the way he came. The chances of finding Charlie alive….…well, if they had Charlie here to do the math, they would probably give up any search and wait for a body to surface. She pushed the idea away and turned to face the Eppes' patriarch.

"David will call when anything new comes in. I need to find out from Don what happened. Was he able to tell you anything?"

Alan shook his head and looked flustered.

"There just wasn't time and he's in a lot of pain."

With a disconsolate smile, Megan moved toward the radiology waiting room.

"How long does a CT scan take?"

"Too long, Megan. Too long."

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He was right. It had taken less than thirty minutes for Megan to start pacing the floor.

Her phone rang twice. First it was David, to find out what Don had been able to tell her. Since there was nothing to tell, the call had been brief. Shortly after that, Colby had called to say that LAPD had found a body in a culvert around Glendale that matched Charlie's description, but he had already been to the morgue and it wasn't Charlie, so not to panic if she heard about it.

Alan had quietly listened to her take both calls. After she closed her phone again and put it back on her belt, he stood and walked across the waiting area to the coffee machine in the corner.

"You know, you really aren't supposed to have cell phones in here…..."

She gave him a wayward smile.

"I won't tell if you don't."

She paused.

"They are just checking in Mr. Eppes. They're really worried about Don."

He sighed and exhaled loudly.

"They aren't the only ones."

The door opened and a wound up little man in a white lab coat entered the room.

"Alan Eppes?"

"Yes,"

"I'm Doctor Marvelo. They've taken Don back up to the trauma unit for sutures. The CT scan was normal. We've ruled out both an intracranial hemorrhage and a depressed skull fracture. The wound was clean, no traces of extra-cranial bullet fragments. I want to do a standard neurological exam when he wakes up again, but he seemed lucid before we gave him the morphine and his reflexes were normal. There could be some minor swelling….."

Alan raised his hand to his mouth.

"In his brain? Is there going to be any permanent damage?"

"Well, there is always a chance, but neurological deficits are generally minimal with this kind of tangential gunshot wound to the head."

Megan would have laughed if Alan hadn't looked so bewildered.

"Tangential? When is any gunshot wound almost irrelevant?"

Dr. Marvelo looked annoyed. He had obviously had a difficult night and his bedside manner was already paper thin.

"Miss….."

"Reeves, Agent Reeves."

"Right….A tangential gunshot wound to the head doesn't penetrate the inner table of the skull. In other words, it's a superficial injury. It's an infrequent occurrence…head injuries are seldom marginal when it involves a gunshot wound. Agent Eppes should count himself fortunate."

"And I'm sure he does, Doctor. I need to speak with him right away, if that's possible."

"As I said, we took him back upstairs. With his history of LOC….um, loss of consciousness, we need to keep an eye on him today, possibly through tomorrow, just to make sure there are no farther developments. You can see him now, but the morphine hasn't worn off yet. Once we get his blood pressure back up to normal, that might take up to twenty four hours….and if he's not in too much pain, you should be able to take him home."

Alan's eyes widened and he glanced at Megan in shock.

"Take him home? He was just shot in the head."

"Mr. Eppes, your son is fine. He'll have about eighteen stitches over his left ear from the bullet track through the skin and he's going to have a substantial headache for several days. The bruising isn't going to be much to look at for a while, some minor swelling is expected. But he _is_ going to be fine."

Alan still didn't look convinced.

Softening his tone, the doctor continued in a more consoling manner.

"I understand you were with him when this happened. Bleeding from wounds like this can be alarming. The blood loss wasn't insignificant, but I didn't think a transfusion was necessary. We have him on an IV push and the fluids should help bring his blood pressure back up. We've started him on Rocephin to safeguard against infection, so he should recover nicely with proper rest and at home care."

He turned back to Megan, maintaining his more congenial bedside manner.

"The bullet ran perfectly parallel to the scalp. The skull may have been grazed, but if it was, you can't tell. No fragmentation whatsoever. The bullet stayed in one piece……"

He paused at the amazed expression on her face and then smiled, looking almost jovial.

"…..and so did he. Only a very small percentage of gunshot wounds, even the superficial ones, get to go home on the very same day…..even if we have to keep him overnight, he should consider himself extremely fortunate."

Megan nodded in silent agreement, stunned by the final details of how narrowly Don had escaped death. She wasn't about to argue with the doctor. Don was more than fortunate. He was damn lucky.

Alan was in shock, still unable to fully comprehend the good news. He had braced himself for the absolute worse. Standing in his driveway waiting for the ambulance and watching Agent Sinclair try to slow the flow of blood that was creating a small pool around his oldest son's head, he couldn't imagine how anyone could survive that. And it was clinically considered an insignificant wound?

Alan felt his knees get weak. Don was going to be fine. Don would get to go home again.

His thoughts shifted to his youngest and he stopped trying to control the shaking in his legs. Alan lowered himself into a chair and put his head in his hands. He felt Megan's hand rest on his shoulder and he allowed himself to shed the tears he hadn't wanted Don to see.

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Authors Notes: Hope things are still up to par…

Wanted to also let you know that 40 percent of initially non-fatal gunshot wounds to the head are considered tangential. So if he wasn't dead when the ambulance picked him up, he had around a 40 percent chance of survival. And 23 percent of TGSW's get to go home on the same day without an overnight hospital stay. I couldn't find a way to use the exactnumbers...but I wanted to share them. Yes, I do research...so trust that I will not take us somewhere without first buying a ticket for the trip home. (this is where I would put a big yellow smiley face if one were available.)

Let me know what you're thinking…as always…I beg and plead...leave your thoughts/comments, or just a quick hello to let me know you're there and enjoying what you are reading.

Chapter Ten: _A good day to die_


	10. A Good Day to Die

Authors Notes: Your comments flatter and inspire me. I'm positively ecstatic that you are all enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it! Your remarks have lead me to believe that you genuinely want to know what happens next, and it makes it so easy to keep up the pace!

Please continue to comment! I'm really looking forward to it after this chapter!

**Chapter Ten: A good day to die **

He didn't know where they were, but it had taken them a long time to get there. It had felt like the driver was trying not to draw attention to himself with any unnecessary speed. Trying to gage the variations in their velocity, Charlie was able to determine when they moved from the interstate to a residential area. From where he was hunkered down in the floorboard, he could see the sky as it began it's morning ritual. The horizon had turned a delicate shade of violet and Charlie decided they must be still be in the city. Only the smog of L.A. could make the sunrise look so beautiful.

When the car stopped, Charlie held his breath. He fully expected to be pulled from the car and shot. He could almost imagine some poor homeless guy finding his body behind a dumpster downtown. But much to his surprise, Roberto stood, nonchalantly at the car door and waited for him to exit on his own. Once Charlie maneuvered himself out of the floorboards and straightened out his cramped legs, the younger man nodded toward the single story, cottage style house at the end of the driveway. It was well kept, but there were several boards nailed up on the door and one of the front windows was covered with plywood. Charlie imagined there were bullet holes under those boards. Marcus was waiting by the door and without a word, he walked inside. Charlie obediently followed.

Standing in the foyer, Charlie absorbed the details of his new environment. The main room had baby blue carpeting. He couldn't help but think that anyone in their right mind wouldn't dare to kill someone in this room and chance staining that carpet. He hoped he was right. At least that way he would see it coming.

Roberto and the five other men from the car walked past him and settled around the kitchen table. After speaking to the older man in hushed tones, Marcus headed down the hallway. The youth glanced over his shoulder to look at him. Charlie could see a carbon copy of the look Frankie had given him when he walked out of the metro car, leaving Charlie alone with Marcus and his gun. He watched the young man turn and hang his head, disappearing out the back door and into the early morning light. For a minute, Charlie considered bolting down the hall and making a break for it. But the hallway was linoleum...it wouldn't be to hard to clean his brains off a linoleum floor. The logic of this fact won out over his natural instinct to flee and he remained standing in the middle of the open room;on top of the unstained blue carpet.

A few minutes later, the crew from the kitchen moved into the small living room, spreading out in what Charlie perceived to be a not so random pattern.

"Well, we got a problem."

Roberto stopped in front of him and locked him in an unwavering gaze.

Charlie nodded.

"Yeah, I guess we do, don't we."

The man smirked at him.

"It didn't go down the way it was mapped out…so here we are. Here you are. Might as well finish what we started….before we were interrupted by the FED, I had some shit to ask you."

Charlie shook his head and tried not to sound like he was pleading.

"What….what could I possibly tell you? I spent an hour on a broken down metro train with Marcus, Jose and a few other kids. The others didn't even tell me their names. I couldn't tell the cops anything other than that……I didn't know anything."

Roberto stepped toward him.

"What did the cops tell you? About us….about the 13th? What did they know?"

Charlie fought the urge to take a step back, but he was unable to stop himself.

"Nothing. They just ask me questions about Jose and what _I knew _about him. They said he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The 13th took him down when they came gunning for you."

The room was silent for several seconds as Roberto nodded in silent contemplation. Charlie cleared his throat and swallowed, trying to choke back his building terror.

"So now what?"

One of the younger men snickered. The answer, obviously, had already been discussed.

Charlie looked around the room at the six men. True shock started to anesthetize the edges of his consciousness as the finality of his situation became completely apparent. Every picture he had looked at, the faces of those who had become innocent victims of gang violence, flew through his minds eye…..and he envisioned his own photo being added to that folder. It had been almost a year since he had held those pictures in his hands, yet he remembered every single one.

He heard his own voice, speaking in monotone.

"I'm thinking I'll be missing my 9am class, then."

"I think you're right."

Roberto turned to one of the other young men.

"Take him out back. I don't want no blood on this carpet."

The statement gave Charlie a sudden onslaught of total enlightenment as his mind continued to go numb.

He knew this was the end. In just a few minutes his life would be over and he couldn't think of a single equation to help it make sense. No combination of numerical values would work this out in his favor. He could perceive what was about to happen and his shell-shocked psyche did not offer to alleviate this reality with the numbers that it had so often used for that purpose.

Then a thought occurred to him. He _had_ been right. He wouldn't be bleeding on this floor. Another victory for simple logic.

Now he wasn't so sure he had really wanted time to prepare for this.

Charlie was grabbed roughly from behind by the shoulders and shuffled down the hallway and out the back door. Shoved behind a small shed toward the back of the yard, his legs were kicked out from under him. The jolt of landing on his hands and knees seemed to return some of the sensation to his brain making his conscious thoughts anything but tranquil. He found himself kneeling in the wet morning grass, wondering how it could be so easy for someone to take another human life…as if it were a commonplace event in this backyard. Maybe it was.

The gunshot would never even be reported to the police.

Not in this neighborhood.

The early morning breeze was warm. Summer was in full swing, but Charlie was shivering. Only then did he remember that he was still in his boxer shorts and one of the well worn t-shirts that he usually slept in. He felt his toes pressing into the ground and wished he had kept his socks on last night. It wasn't right for a man to die without his shoes on…socks would have been better than nothing.

He resisted the urge to hysterically plead for his life and steadied his voice as best he could before he spoke.

"So that's it then. You don't even know me and you're just going toshoot me?"

The younger man behind him sounded somewhat apologetic.

"We gunned down a FED, man. Right in front of you. I ain't gonna spend my life in La Toracida. Marcus thinks you'll keep you're mouth shut. Begged Roberto not to pop ya. Kid's pretty naive. Told him though…can't let you live. Just the way it has to be."

At first Charlie had wondered how long it would take for his murderer to pull the trigger. But suddenly he almost didn't care. He didn't want any more extra time to dwell on this. What was this guy waiting for? Thoughts of his family started to fill his mind and further restrained his ability to mourn his own impending death.

They _had _shot Don. He hadn't really been sure until this guy said it out loud. If his father had survived, he was going to lose both of his sons on the same day.

That just wasn't fair. But since when was life fair?

As he waited for his final moments, he thought of his friends at the FBI.

No, not friends. By now they qualified as family too.

He closed his eyes when he felt the barrel of the gun press into the back of his head and he braced himself for what would come next. He lost the battle to keep his voice calm and steady as he spoke, one more time, to the young man behind him.

"This won't end here. I can promise you that."

The only response to his forewarning was the distinctive sound of the hammer being cocked on the gun in the young man's hand.

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**Chapter Eleven: Dead men do tell tales**


	11. Dead Men Do Tell Tales

**Chapter Eleven: Dead men do tell tales**

Colby still held the phone tightly in his hand even though Megan had already disconnected the call. His boss had missed taking a bullet to the brain by less than a quarter of an inch. He mentally added Don to his list of 'the luckiest sons of bitches alive'. Realizing he hadn't told Megan where he was, he hoped he wouldn't be calling her back right away. He wasin the small private office of the county's Chief Medical Examiner and had been staring at the floor when Megan called. He had just realized that the tiles were green. Not just green, but a revolting shade of sea foam green. He'd been in this office a hundred times over the past two years and he had never noticed that before.

This was the second time he'd been in here in the past ninety minutes. And it wasn't quite seven am. Normally he would be looking at the bizarre autopsy magazines that the M.E. usually had on his desk. But today, he didn't want to look at anything. Especially the body he had been called in to identify.

So he had concentrated on the floor……and it was green.

If today ended the way he expected it to, why did he know he would always remember that?

"I think we've got your guy."

He looked up at the man standing in the door. He was wearing scrubs and still had on his latex gloves. Colby hoped he didn't try to shake his hand.

"I hope not."

"Well, he matches the description for the John Doe alert your office sent out…just like the last one did."

"Then I guess you'd better show me."

He followed the M.E. down the hall to the autopsy room. For reasons he didn't want to dwell on, Colby found himself afraid to walk through the doors this time.

He wasn't a coward. He knew that and had proven it on more than a few occasions. He had seen things…..hell, even done things that had made trained soldiers cry for their mothers. But there was no freaking way he was going to be the one to tell Don Eppes that his younger brother was lying on a slab in the morgue. He wasn't sure if he could. Colby had lost more than a few brothers in arms during his tour in Afghanistan, and he found himself calling on the same strength he had used every time he watched a widow get handed a flag.

Bracing himself for the worst, he stepped up to the metal table in the center of the room. The surge of relief that rushed through him was so powerful, it almost knocked him off his feet. But he maintained his posture and kept his shoulders square.

"Agent Granger?"

Taking a deep breath, Colby turned and headed for the door.

"That's not him. Our guy has more hair."

When he was alone in the elevator, Colby sighed resolutely and allowed his shoulders to slump. How many more times today was he going to have to go through that? They needed to get a picture of Charlie, for the M.E.

He had made it through the lobby and had just stepped out onto the sidewalk, when his cell phone rang.

"Granger."

He fished his keys out of his pocket and headed for the car as he listened to the caller.

"Agent Granger? This is dispatch. 911 sent me a caller requesting to speak to a federal agent. He specifically mentioned the shooting at the Eppes' home in Pasadena. I thought I should patch him through to you."

"Put him through….and stay on the line."

Early morning traffic was starting to pick up and Colby quickly ducked into this car so he could hear the caller clearly.

"Is this an FBI agent?"

The caller was a young man. From the sound of his voice, Colby placed him in his late teens.

"Yeah. I'm Special Agent Granger. I understand you might have some information for me?"

There was an extended pause and for a moment he thought the boy had hung up. When the young voice continued, the information came out in a rush, as if he wanted to spill it all before he changed his mind.

"The guys who shot the FED are in a house on the west side…1216 Dewey. If you get their fast, and I mean you gotta fly….I think you can still save the other guy."

There was a subtle click as the boy hung up his phone.

"Agent Granger?"

The operator had stayed on the line.

"Did you get a location?"

"Yes, Sir. The call came from a residential line. Listed to a Isabel de Gattás."

"West Side?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Notify Lieutenant Gary Walker and ask him to send an LAPD gang unit over there to pick up Mrs. de Gattás' son. They should already have a BOLO out with his description, they just didn't have a name."

"I'm requesting the unit now."

"I don't have GPS mapping…how far to Dewey?"

"If you head up the 110, you can be there in 8 minutes. It runs between 12th and West Pico. There's an LAPD unit five minutes out."

"Send 'em. Tell them not to wait for me. We may not have much time."

The boy's voice had contained such a sense of urgency that Colby was almost sure it was already to late.

He quickly maneuvered his car into the increasingly heavy morning rush traffic and hit the lights and siren. Slowly, but surely, traffic parted like the red sea and he put his foot to the floor, the four cylinder engine straining to keep us with his demands.

"Hey?"

"Yes, Sir."

Good, dispatch had waited.

"Put me through to Special Agent David Sinclair."

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Authors Notes: Thanks for all your comments. This was a short one...I intened to post another later today.

Please comment, even if it is a tiny little chapter... thanks!

**Chapter Twelve: If your not scared, you can't be brave**


	12. If You're Not Scared, You Can't Be Brave

**Chapter Twelve: If You're Not Scared, You Can't Be Brave**

When he heard the first shot, Charlie involuntarily flinched.

It took him a minute to realize that the shot hadn't come from the handgun aimed at his head, but rather from somewhere on the street.

Someone started to unload a fully automatic weapon into the front of the house. Charlie heard the footsteps of the young man behind him as he turned and ran around the side of the building, finally firing his gun…but in the direction of the street. And then, quite suddenly, Charlie found himself kneeling alone in the backyard.

Even without shoes, Charlie was pretty sure he could have qualified for an Olympic event. With a surge of adrenaline, he was up and running across the adjoining yard at a speed he didn't know he was capable of. He actually hurdled the first fence, then rather than risk tripping on the next one he slowed down enough to vault over it. He stumbled over the last fence and staggered out onto the sidewalk, just as a carload of young men in their early twenties rounded the corner.

Several of them were still holding their guns out the window of the car. Charlie realized these young men had just finished a bona fide drive by shooting….and Roberto and his crew had been the target. The driver of the car met his eyes and for a moment time stopped. As the car passed him, he saw the break lights come on.

Charlie quickly realized his saviors had just turned into the next threat. He turned back and ran the way he came, this time cutting parallel to the houses and heading for the next block. He hoped they wouldn't pursue him…but he wasn't counting on it. He didn't hear anymore gunfire, but he wasn't about to risk slowing down or stopping to be sure. He ran hard for the duration of a full city block, staying between the houses and awayfrom the street. Finally he reduced his speed. He stopped running when he reached a four lane intersection. Panting, he leaned against a chain link fence and tried to get his bearings. When he spotted a pay phone across the street at a Circle K, Charlie took off diagonally across the roadway at a full run.

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Colby had just passed Catalina when he flipped off his siren. There was always a chance he would beat the LAPD to the house. Megan had just met David downtown to follow up on a lead about the car, so they were only five minutes behind him.The next street should be Dewey. Colby accelerated again and looked up at the road signs. Out of the corner of his eye, he barely saw something step out in front of his car.

Instinctively, Colby swerved the wheel hard to his left. It took him a minute to get his foot back on the break. He crossed the lane and slammed into the unoccupied payphone that stood on the corner sending fragments of glass and a small fortune in change across the hood of his car.

"SHIT!"

Disgusted with himself for being so careless, Colby climbed out of his car and turned to look at what he had almost hit.

He felt his jaw literally drop as he stared at the wide eyed expression on the face of Charlie Eppes. The smartest guy he knew looked completely dumbfounded as he stood in the middle of the street in his pajamas.

Charlie was so startled by the car that had almost hit him that he nearly forgot why he had been running. When he heard another car approaching from up the street, he remembered. He headed for the gas station and the wrecked car as fast as he could, this time checking for any other oncoming traffic. He was almost to the curb before he recognized the driver of the car.

Colby was staring at him like he had sprouted antlers. Charlie made his way around the car on shaking legs, picking his way thought the broken glass in his bare feet.

A wide grin spread over Colby's face.

"And _I_ thought _Don _was lucky."

Charlie almost staggered at the shock of hearing his older brother referred to in a positive and present tense. He grabbed the front of the car for support.

"Don's ok? I thought…."

He drew in a ragged breath before he continued.

"He's alive?"

"Charlie, you have no idea."

Before he could ask Colby what he meant, the sound of tires squealing filled the air and both men turned their heads toward the sound.

Charlie recognized the car and it's passengers instantly and they had recognized him. The way the semi-automatic weapon, thrust out the rear window, reflected the light of the morning sun was almost hypnotizing. He hardly had time to register what was happening, when 200 pounds of federal agent wrapped around his middle and knocked him to the ground.

Less than a millisecond after Colby rammed into him, the sound of multiple guns firing filled his ears for the third time that morning.

Charlie felt the broken glass from the phone booth digging into his cheek and his arms as he was flattened to the ground, but he made no attempt to get back up.

Colby scrambled up to a squat behind the car, staying low as the flying bullets shattered the car windows over his head. Before the shooting had stopped he had pulled his own firearm from the holster on his hip.

When the firing ceased, the sound of the driver revving the engine indicated the retreat of the gunmen in the car.

As the car sped off down the street, Colby bolted to his feet and carefully took aim. He fired two shots in succession and the rear tires of the speeding car exploded.

At almost exactly the same moment, two police cruisers rounded the corner off of Dewey Street. The units that had been sent to the house had heard the gunfire.

The driver of the retreating car swerved when he lost his tires and he was unable to avoid hitting the first police car.

The sound of crunching metal echoed down the street as the two cars spun to a stop in the center of the road.

"Stay down, Charlie."

Colby took off toward the other unit, identifying himself to the officers as they exited their car. Together, they moved toward

the wrecked car and it's occupants, weapons at the ready.

Charlie didn't dare to lift his head from the ground as several more shots were fired from the street.

He heard another car pull up behind Colby's wrecked vehicle, but he still remained unmoving. Playing possum seemed like the best idea he'd had all day. Rapid footsteps made their way towards him and he felt a cool hand on the back of his neck as someone checked his pulse.

"Charlie?"

"Is he alive?"

At the sound of two very familiar voices, he lifted his head.

"God, I hope so. Cause if I'm not, I'm in hell."

Megan was kneeling next to him.

"No, not hell. You're on the west side."

"Close enough, right Charlie?"

Smiling, David extended his hand and pulled Charlie into a sitting position behind the car. Megan flashed him a relieved smile, with a quick pat on his shoulder, she took off across the street to assist Colby and the other officers. The vehicle's occupants had surrendered their weapons and both the injured and uninjured occupants of the wrecked vehicle we being cuffed and lined up, face down on the sidewalk.

David's attempt to discreetly check him over for injury wasn't working.

"Let me call an ambulance."

There were several trickles of blood running down Charlie's face from his nose dive onto the glass covered pavement.

"I guess I look like I need one?"

"Yeah, Charlie…you do."

Giving himself the once over, Charlie realized he had hit the ground on his hands and knees and several shards of glass were now imbedded in his bruising extremities.

He looked up just as Megan and Colby walked back toward the car, leaving the gang for the LAPD to deal with. They had wanted the Mara 13th's gunmen, and they could have them.

Sitting on the pavement, with his back against the car door, Charlie unconsciously pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. The comprehension of his haphazard and unlikely deliverance from a bullet had managed it's way to the surface of his mind. Charlie felt himself shaking uncontrollably and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

He tried not to sound as traumatized as he felt, but he must have failed.

"I really need to go home now."

Megan quickly knelt down next to him.

"I think he's in shock, David. Get some water."

She turned back to Charlie, keeping her voice calm and reassuring.

"We're gonna get you to the hospital, ok? You're ok."

Charlie looked up at her wide-eyed.

"They were going to kill me. He almost killed me."

"But they didn't."

"He put a gun…..he was really going to do it…..and…..I think…….I think maybe I'm gonna be sick."

David returned with a small bottle and Charlie was able to resist the urge throw up as he took several small sips of water.

"I'm ok……I just…..oh man."

He leaned his head back against the car door and tried to breathe deeply as he stared into the early morning sky. When he heard a siren in the distance, he looked back at the three concerned faces that surrounded him.

"Where's Don?"

The three agents exchanged a glance and Megan put her hand on his arm.

"It's ok, Charlie. Come on. Let's get you to the hospital."

"But Don…"

"That's where he is, Charlie."

Responding to the fearful look in his eyes, she answered before he had the chance to ask the next question.

"He'll be fine. Your dad's fine too. They'll be glad to see you."

His eyes welled up with tears of relief, but he fought them off.He bit his lip and swallowed hard. Not yet and not in front of them. He forced a laugh.

"It's really been a very long day."

She pretended to ignore the tremor in his voice.

"It's not even seven thirty in the morning, Charlie."

He nodded, resolved to maintain his composure.

"As I said. It's been a very long day."

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Authors Notes: Once again, please accept my gratitude for your faithful comments. I'm glad you care enough to let me know what you think!

I quadruple checked my spelling on this one!

Thanks again!

**Chapter Thirteen: The Evidence of Things Not Seen**


	13. Evidence of Things Not Seen

**Chapter Thirteen: The Evidence of Things Not Seen**

Don remembered the ambulance ride.

His father.

His own fear…for himself…..for Charlie.

Then things got a little sketchy.

He recalled the dull cylindrical interior of the CT machine. His IV drip had been burning his arm from whatever they had injected him with and the incessant thumping from the machine was sending matching pulses of pain across his temples. He had zoned out again and next thing he knew the thumping had ceased and the enclosed tube had been replaced with a high ceiling covered in off-white tiles. They must have given him something for pain, because the pounding agony in his head had been replaced with a dull throb.

Megan had spoken to him briefly and tried to reassure him that they would find Charlie. But the morphine made him brutally honest and with slurred speech, he had chastised her for patronizing him. She left to assist David and in a moment of overwhelming helplessness, he had fazed out again. When he opened his eyes to see his father pacing the floor, Don knew Alan hadn't heard from the team in a while. The digital clock on the television read 7:08. Somewhere in the core of his soul, an overwhelming fear surged over him, and he felt his heart racing. He attributed it to the pain medication, but he swore he could hear Charlie's frightened voice somewhere in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes in an attempt to make out the words. But, once again, thanks to the sedative effect of the drug in his system, he lost his hold on consciousness.

"He's really ok, right?"

At first Don thought he was dreaming, or maybe it was an auditory hallucination.

"Yeah. He's really ok. He's a little high on the morphine, but that should wear off soon. The doctor said he could go home once his blood pressure returned to normal."

"He really said 'tangential'?"

Megan's laughter pulled Don the rest of the way out of his artificial slumber and he listened in silence.

"I couldn't believe it either. I could have kicked him."

The other voice had reduced it's volume to a whisper.

"Doctors are idiots."

"Don't you have a doctorate?"

"Three, actually. But I'm not an idiot. I represent a very small percentage of PhD's. We're a rare breed."

Megan laughed again.

"I'd better get back to the office. Be careful though, unlike most people, morphine doesn't do much for _his _personality."

He could hear shuffling as Megan stood. Then her voice turned serious.

"I need to get your statement typed and filed. But if you still need to talk about………what happened, you know where to find me."

"I think I'm ok. But thank you. For everything."

"Anytime, Charlie."

Charlie. In the moment of sudden realization, Don wanted to stand on the bed and jump for joy. But his body didn't cooperate and all he could mange was gingerly lifting himself up on his elbows. His head felt like it weighed a ton. The figure in the chair at the end of the bed turned his head away from the door and their eye's locked.

Again, a thousand words were exchanged in a single moment. Don spotted the cuts and bruises on his brother's face, neck and arms. Bandages were visible on both his hands and he was wearing a pair of hospital scrubs. A hospital issue I.D. bracelet was visible around his wrist.

Don cleared his throat and hoped his voice wasn't as shaky as he felt.

"Hey, Buddy. You're ok?"

"Me? Yeah…I…I'm fine, Don."

Charlie eyed the bandage wrapped around his brother's head like a turban.

"You're ok?"

Don gave a subtle nod and tried to smile.

"Just barely."

Silence lingered in the room as both brothers tried to sort out what they wanted to say to the other without actually saying it.

Somehow he could say it with his eyes, and he never could quite find the words. Don concentrated hard on reeling in his emotions, then broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Rough morning, huh?"

Despite his efforts to contain it, Charlie felt his eyes welling up with unshed tears. He managed a shaky laugh.

"I'll tell you about it….if you've got a minute."

"Yeah. I'm not going anywhere for a while."

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Alan stood outside the door and listened to his grown children as once again, they managed to sidestep embracing the affection they had for each other.

He had tried. Margaret had tried. But they never could convince Don that just as it was ok to cry when you were sad, it was ok to shed tears when you were happy. And Charlie…..He never had a problem shedding tears...he just locked himself in his room to do it. He fought against his emotions because didn't want to make his brother uncomfortable……and he tried desperately not to appear vulnerable in front of Don. How had they managed to teach both of their children that emotion was a weakness to be avoided even under the most incredible circumstances?

As Charlie described his ordeal in detail to his brother, Alan felt his own knees go weak. The mental picture of his youngest son with a gun held to his head was almost more than he could bear. The one holding that gun had had every intention of pulling the trigger, and the thoughts of the alternate outcome almost made Alan physically ill. He sagged against the door frame and placed his hands over his mouth.

He had always thought any danger to Charlie would be facilitated by his association with the FBI, not by a chance meeting on the metro.

Charlie's one hour encounter with those kids on the subway had almost cost him both of his sons.

Feeling overwhelmed by the dangers that had become so commonplace in the world around them, he felt his faithfalter.

Fear ends where faith begins. He had heard someone say that once. Why did he feel like the fear would be never-ending?

The only prayer he could voice was a quite 'thank you'….he hoped that would be enough.

Authors Notes: I think the next Chapter is the final one. Again, thank you so much for all of your comments. They really mean a lot to me. You folks are really great! Thanks!

**Chapter Fourteen: Let's make a deal**


	14. Let's Make a Deal

**Chapter Fourteen: Let's make a deal**

When Don walked into the bull pen on Monday morning, he tried hard to remain unseen. He wasn't supposed to be back at the office, but he needed a file from his desk. Ok, he wanted a file from his desk. With Alan standing guard like a sentinel, he hated to ask anyone to deliver it….not that him sneaking out to retrieve it was a better idea.

Even with the white bandage on his head, he had managed to walk unobserved, or at least unnoticed to his desk. Lowering himself into his chair, he quietly opened his file drawer. His attempt at self concealment was abandoned when Megan's voice rang across the room.

"Charlie. It's good to see you. What are you doing here?"

He heard the answer from about six feet away.

"Looking for my brother."

"Don?"

"I hope he's the only one I have."

She laughed and Don knew that if he stood up, he would be almost face to face with them both.

"I haven't seen him. Was he coming in?"

"It seemed like the most likely location for him to take refuge from our father. Four days and he's acting like a caged animal, pacing the bars and desperate to escape."

Colby's voice spoke from almost directly behind him.

"Maybe he just wanted to sit at his desk in peace."

Don felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

He glanced up as the two faces of his fellow agents looked over the cubical wall.

"I uh…..just needed to grab something."

Charlie rounded the corner and stopped in the door staring at him.

He looked embarrassed that Don had heard his caged animal comment.

"Oh. Well, I guess you are here."

Don grinned at his brother.

"I see you didn't hesitate to follow my example."

"By fleeing in terror? No, I was right behind you."

David rounded the corner and looked shocked to see Don.

"Didn't expect to see you today….but since you're here……."

Four pairs of eyes shifted in his direction.

"Lieutenant Walker is here with the de Gattás kids."

"Marcus is here?"

Don was not surprised to find himself instantly feeling hostile towards the young man who had almost gotten them both killed.

David nodded.

"Yeah. His brother too….he's downstairs. The Bureau of Citizenship and Immigration Services in the Department of Homeland Security is deporting two of the young men from the Dewey Street shooting back to El Salvador. The other four are, unfortunately, American citizens…..so the U.S. Attorney's office has decided to indict them under RICO….that puts the whole case and it's subsequent investigation under federal jurisdiction."

Don raised his eyebrows.

"Robin?"

"Yeah. She's been working with the de Gattás kids, trying to get them to testify. Marcus is still being held on another charge. She's offered to work out a deal for him, but he won't budge. Says he'd rather go to jail. The younger one won't do anything his brother won't do."

Don cast his eyes toward the lobby.

"Then why are they here?"

"Well, they witnessed the shootings at the Menendez house...at least one of these remaining four members of the Mara 13th left prints at that crime scene. So allegedly they were the trigger men. Along with the evidence that proves the 13th is an organized criminal organization,the kid's testimony would make a racketeering charge stick and the murder conviction would be a sure thing. She wants a sure thing. It's kind of a last ditch effort, but she asked Lieutenant Walker to bring them over here. She thought maybe one of us could talk the older kid down. Maybe you should…………."

"I'll talk to him."

They all turned and stared at Charlie.

"No."

Don shook his head.

Colby stood up.

"I took his phone call, Charlie. I'll go talk to him."

"Please. I want to."

Charlie looked apprehensively from Colby to his brother.

"I know this was all….sort of his fault…but….he knew he'd made a mistake. He didn't know how things would turn out. He tried to make it right. I think he'll do the right thing. Just let me talk to him."

Colby shrugged his shoulders and glanced at Don, who nodded hesitantly.

"Ok, let's all go talk to him. If nothing else, we may scare him straight."

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When they rounded the corner into the large lobby of the FBI offices, Marcus was sitting between two uniformed LAPD officers. His hands were cuffed and his expression made it obvious that he was not there by choice. Charlie was walking just behind Don and Colby and the young man didn't spot him until he was standing almost directly in front of him. Marcus jumped from his seat so quickly that the officers moved to restrain him and Don defensively stepped in front of Charlie.

It was obvious from the teen's expression that he hadn't expected to see the mathematician again and definitely not here.

"It's ok guys. We'll take it from here."

Colby put his hand on the young man's shoulder to lead him away from the officers and out of the lobby.

Lt. Walker approached from the front desk and nodded to Don.

"Good morning. I certainly didn't expect you to be here today."

He turned to Charlie. "Professor….Good to see you as well."

Marcus recognized Don as the agent that had been shot outside the garage in Pasadena and he suddenly looked far more nervous. He tried to keep his eyes on Charlie as they walked back into the office areaand escorted him to one of the open interrogation rooms. He could sense the open hostility from the older federal agent and he looked inquisitively at the police lieutenant.

"You're not gonna leave me here with these guys are you?"

Lt. Walker scanned the ominous expression on Don's face with amusement. The agent had taken a protective stance behind his younger brother, when Charlie had sat down at the table across from Marcus...and he showed no sign of intending to move.

Marcus twisted his head around to look at Colby, who was leaning against the wall behind him. The young man appeared visibly intimidated by the group of men standing around him.

"I think I'm done here. You can take me back to lock up."

Charlie turned to look at Don.

"Can I talk to him, please? Alone?"

After several moments of silence, Lt. Walker turned and headed out the door followed by Colby. Don raised his eyebrows to ask Charlie if he was sure about this. When his brother nodded a silent response, Don followed the other two and closed the door behind him.

Charlie knew the rest of them were watching from the next room. But not having them standing over him, seemed to put Marcus at ease.

"What the hell are you doing in the FBI office, Math Man."

"I think it might be time for you to start calling me Doctor Eppes. Or Professor. Or something that incurs some level of respect. Try my name. You remember it? I told you once."

The kid looked slightly bewildered by the authoritative tone in his voice.

"Charlie, right?"

"Right."

"Why are you here? Charlie."

Charlie decided it was time to really throw the kid for a loop.

"I work here."

Marcus looked so shocked, Charlie decided to soften the blow.

"Only part time. I'm a consultant for the bureau."

"The FBI uses math teachers?"

"Mathematicians, yes. More often than you might think."

Marcus crossed his arms and stared across the table at him.

"They think you can talk me into testifying, don't they?"

Charlie matched his position, going as far as to extend his legs under the table, learning back into the chair.

"No. They don't think anyone can. I think they were just going to sit around here for a while and then take you back to lock up. But I'm glad you're here. They wanted to know if I'd like to file any charges against you. But I had wanted to talk to you about it first."

The idea of additional charges was disconcerting, but Marcus knew it was a play to get his attention. He took the bait anyway.

"What for?"

"You tried to save my life. Agent Granger told me about your phone call."

Marcus looked embarrassed.

"Yeah, well, all it got me was two cop cars in my driveway ten minutes later and a trip downtown."

Charlie sat up quickly, startling the young man across the table.

"NO. What it got……..what you've been given... is a chance to do the right thing. To make up for all the times you screwed up. You have a great opportunity here, Marcus."

Marcus leaned forward and put his hands on the table.

"An opportunity to do what. Die?"

He slung himself backwards in his chair, scooting it several inches.

"If the 13th doesn't kill me, my boys will. I'll be singled out as a rat! The cops didn't get Roberto, the 13th did………I may have betrayed them to save you, but I won't do it again. I'm loyal to the 18th. I've pledged my life to the barrio. I've sworn my allegiance to them. You don't walk away from that."

Charlie moved to the edge of his chair, without taking his eyes off the youth.

"And do you walk away from your brother, Marcus?"

The young man's face maintained it's calloused expression.

"What do you mean?"

"Jose is dead because of Roberto….is that what you want for Frankie too? You've watched your 'friends' die. Are you still willing to drag your little brother right into the middle of it? Look at what he's already seen, Marcus."

Don was watching Charlie's progress through the state of the art video surveillance system. It fed audio and video into the television monitors that covered the desk in the corner. His brother was starting to act like a trained interrogator and the rooms other occupants appeared to be thoroughly enjoying the show, regardless of it's serious nature. Megan walked into the room. "Any luck?"

Riveted by the mathematician's performance, Colby laughed, then shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, he's got nothing on me, but Charlie's working him pretty good…for an amateur."

Don allowed himself a chuckle.

"Well, he does have to pull answers from large groups of reluctant teenagers every freshman class he teaches…so he isn't completely without experience."

Don had taken his eyes off the screen for a minute and when he turned back, he could see that something had changed. The accusatory tones in Charlie's voice had finally riled the kid up. Marcus's anger was obvious when he replied to the last statement Charlie had made.

"Frankie has seen reality, man! I've shown him how to be strong, how to stay alive in our neighborhood. In this city. I've taught him loyalty. I've shown him what it's like to be independent. It takes strength to be a part of a gang and I've shown him that too."

Charlie was disgusted by the thought of someone considering it an act of strength to be willing to stick a gun to the back of his head. His voice reflected his revulsion as he spit back a reply.

"The only strength you've shown him is the strength it takes to move your index finger and pull a trigger."

With a sudden surge of movement that made Charlie flinch, Marcus pulled himself to his feet.

Don lurched for the hallway but Megan grabbed his arm.

"The kid is cuffed Don. And David's just outside their door with Lieutenant Walker."

He turned his eyes back to the monitor, and he could see David'sshadow just outsidethe tinted glass door. Don remained tense as Charlie quickly leapt to his feet. He could see from his brother's eyes that this confrontation had him shaken. But he was shocked when Charlie raised his voice at the young man.

"You are really going to want to sit down, Marcus. There are at least two federal agents in the next room that I'm sure are ready to come in here and sit you down if you don't do so quickly."

He paused, the continued at a normal volume.

"And I mean now."

The young man glanced around the room, spotting the video cameras in the corners and quietly recovered his chair. He lowered himself into it and looked up at Charlie. His eyes were dark and brooding.

"I don't have to listen to you."

Charlie remained standing and nodded his head with conviction.

"Yes, you do. Because if you don't, you and Frankie are likely to end up just as dead as Jose and Roberto. You're going to get shot at again, Marcus, whether you testify or not. You might even get hit. Next time the bullet might hit something important. What happens when that something is Frankie?"

Marcus didn't reply, his eyes growing darker.

Don learned against the table and focused on the monitor. It looked like Charlie may have hit a brick wall. Don gave a defeated sigh just as Charlie spoke again.

"It's a statistically demonstrable fact. I can prove it. If you retain your current partiality for guns and those who carry them, you will be shot again. You understood what I said about probability, Marcus. Don't you remember? The probability is too great for you to deny that it will happen. I offered to give you the numbers that night. You didn't want them."

Suddenly Marcus looked defeated.

"Jose did."

"Yeah, Marcus. He did. But would it have made a difference?"

The young man shook his head.

Charlie leaned forward over the table.

"Will it make a difference now?"

Silence filled the room as Marcus considered his words. After a moment he shook his head slowly, but resolutely.

"Once you get in, there is only one way out."

"_This _is the way out. These people can help you. Don't pass it up, Marcus."

His expression of denial looked more tentative this time.

"No, I don't have any options. This is my life and I can't change that."

Charlie moved around the table and leaned up against it directly next to Marcus.

"Somebody told me once that your choices are always yours to make. There are always options."

His voice reflected his sincerity as he continued.

"If you just want a bunch of twelve year olds to think you're God…..Ok. But there is already one kid who will never see you as anything less no matter what you do. And he is going to spend his entire life trying to impress you no matter how you treat him now and no matter what direction you head in."

Charlie's eyes darted to the surveillance camera.

"He will, Marcus. Because that's what little brother's do."

Colby and Megan both glancedat him when Charlie said those words, but Don didn't notice. He was completely focused on Charlie. With a smile on his face, he watched as Marcus hung his head and took a deep breath. Don shook his head, amazed at what he was seeing.

Charlie had gotten through to this kid.

"Give him something worth looking up to, Marcus. If you're willing to die for nothing, then be willing to die for everything."

Marcus was nodding silently. After a few minutes he lifted his head.

The intimidating, authoritative gangbanger Charlie had met on the rail a few weeks ago was gone.

"Will you be there? If I testify, will you be there?"

"In court?"

Charlie quickly nodded his head.

"I can be."

"Ok. Tell them to get my brother up here."

He nodded knowingly at Charlie.

"If I testify, so will he."

Charlie looked up at the monitors.

"It'll be alright, Marcus. Ms. Brooks is really good at her job…and so is the FBI. In fact, it would be safe to say, these guys are some of the best."

Then he leaned over close to Marcus, so the agents in the other room wouldn't be able to hear.

"You know how I know that? You know that FED….the one in my garage? The guy that's here this morning?"  
Marcus nodded.

"Do you remember that brother I told you about?"

Charlie couldn't help but smile at the look of realization on Marcus' face.

When David opened the door and walked in followed by Lt. Walker, Charlie turned to make his way out the door.

"I'll see you around, Marcus."

As Charlie headed back towards Don's office, he almost ran into his brother and the rest of the team coming out of the surveillance room. Colby clapped him on the back on his way by, then hurried toward the office, with Megan right behind him. Don stood silently in the hall staring at Charlie until they were out of earshot.

"You know I'm impressed, right?"

"What?"

"You don't have to……………"

Don's smile showed in his eyes as he shook his head in amazed disbelief.

"That was a hellava thing you did in there. I'm...I'm proud of you."

Charlie looked slightly embarrassed and had just opened his mouth to reply when Don's phone rang.

He answered without even checking the LCD screen.

"Eppes."

Don's expression quickly changed and he grabbed Charlie's arm and ushered him down the hall toward the elevator.

"No, Dad. I'm not at the office."

Charlie gave Don a deviant grin, and he gave the team a brief wave and hit the elevator button.

"No. Charlie's with me."

"Uh huh. We're just talking."

They walked into the elevator and Don hit the button to take them to the ground floor lobby.

"Yeah, talking. We're actually on our way home."

The elevator doors opened and they both rushed out the lobby and into the parking lot.

"No, just coffee. We haven't eaten. Breakfast would be good."

Don unlocked his car by hand to avoid the telltale beep of the remote locks.

"Ok, Dad. See you in a minute."

He flipped his phone shut, and climbed into the drivers seat, givingCharlie a quick glance as he fastened his seat belt.

"We'd better hurry. Dad seems to think I might have disregarded the doctors orders and gone into the office today."

Grinning, Charlie pulled the door shut as Don put the SUV in gear and speed out of the parking lot.

"What would make him think a thing like that?"

THE END

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Final Thought: This felt like the right place to end this story. But, I feel like there is still some ground to explore, particularly with Don. A person can only hide such strong emotions for so long….eventually, they will break.

Due to some whacked out circumstances at the office, I may not be able to start on it for a week or so...but.…..Looks like I'm going for a trilogy here!

COMING SOON!

No Common Allegiance: An Elegy for Justice

Months have gone by as the FBI and the US Attorney have built a solid racketeering case against the members of the Mara 13th. And over the course of the investigation, Don has grown quite attached to a certain AUSA. When the court date finally arrives, Charlie follows though on his promise to Marcus. But things don't always go as planned. When the Los Angeles County Federal Courthouse becomes a war zone for the gangs of L.A., Don must fight to save the lives of the two people he cannot live without.

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_"There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul."_

_Ella Wheeler Wilcox(American poet and writer 1850-1919)_


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